Bite the Hand
by BigPink
Summary: While having trouble logging on to an addictive web site, the boys make an appalling discovery. You’ll be laughing longer than it’ll take you to read it. Ficlet oneshot.


**Bite the Hand** – a ficlet

**Summary**: While having trouble logging on to an addictive web site, the boys make an appalling discovery. You'll be laughing longer than it'll take you to read it.

**Disclaim-a-rama**: none of it, none of it, I own neither SN nor the pernicious fanbot.

--

Sam grunted, and it made Dean look over, engrossed as he was in the copy of _Entertainment Weekly_ he'd taken from the stack. Normally, they didn't stop for coffee in someplace that had magazines, art photography on the walls, and the kinds of coffees that required multiple decisions, but Sam had been hankering for internet access and this café had a sign out front: _Tried our chai? Browse cyberspace while you sip!_ Even Dean knew that cyberspace was located somewhere in the 90s. Still, the EW was from the present year.

"What?" he prompted, tearing his attention away from an in-depth story on the merger of two TV networks. That kind of stuff bored him to tears – what the hell did it have to do with real life? Sam had a deep line between his brows.

"Can't log on," he muttered, typing furiously.

"Log on?" Dean repeated, suddenly feeling the effects of his coffee, which had an Italian size as well as a Guatemalan name. Even ordering it black, he'd had to clarify his order with the server – with the _barista_ – about five times, which was approximately the relative price of the drink as compared to something of similar size available around the corner at the Mom-n-Pop place. Fucking fancy college kids and their fancy drinks.

"Yeah, the site's acting funny," and he spun his laptop so Dean could have a look. The screen was stuck in one place, the only thing moving the little compass-like circle, spinning. Behind it, the screen was static. Dean didn't recognize it. Sam adjusted the machine so he could try logging in again.

"Uh, which site is that?" Dean asked, taking a long sip of his coffee, marshalling his comeback. "Pure Paranormal? HellHoundz? Dailydemon?" If Sam noticed the sarcasm, he didn't acknowledge it. He was concentrating too hard on the screen.

"Nah, I've been trying to post a blog," and he looked up with a grin, slightly shy. It was never good when he got that look, because shy meant embarrassed, and that meant he'd done _something_. "You know, tell a few stories about our adventures."

"You're joking." As though he'd been hit hard in the gut. Breathless. This was an appalling development. "You can't write about what we _do_. What's the first rule?" Maybe it was just the coffee talking, but he felt all jangly, a little pointed, like a broken stick.

"Oh, _right_. As if anyone would believe any of it." Sam wasn't even looking at him, was back at the keyboard, irritated with the problem at hand, barely listening to his brother. "I make sure you come across pretty well."

Dean adjusted the coffee in his hand, blinking hard. "What?"

"Yeah, except you're always getting _hurt_. They seem to love that. You should see the hits I get on a Hurt!Dean story." Type, type, type. "Almost as good as a Torture!Dean story." And he hit the surface of the table with the flat of his hand. "Damn."

This required his full attention. Dean threw the magazine onto the deep, comfy couch and leaned forward to take a closer look.

"You've blow our cover wide fucking open."

Sam's face screwed up as though he'd just had a big mouthful of recycled milk. "We don't _have_ a cover, Dean."

"Give me that," and Dean grabbed the computer. He got to Google, and typed in their names. "Holy shit, Sammy."

There must have been a thousand sites, all dedicated to the Supernatural. Pictures of them. Stories about them.

Beside him, Sam was slowly, incrementally, hyperventilating. "I'm sorry, Dean," he whispered, and it came out at a squeak. "Oh, man. We got fans."

Suddenly, Dean grinned. "_I_ got fans," he said, surfing from site to site. "You. You're a pussy, Sam. You should see the freakin' angst. At least I get all the good lines."

"Well, that's not news." Sam was looking over his shoulder. "What do we do now?"

Dean shrugged. "Get me another one of these," and waved his empty cup around. "I think we're going to be here awhile."

-30-

**a/n:** See what happens when I can't log on? Bad things, that's what. Need to rant? You're not the only one. Rants in exchange for reviews.


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